Here Without You
by Crystal Dragon's Lament
Summary: Through out the show of NCIS there have been several character deaths, the most memorable being Kate’s. But what about the others? This is the characters thoughts about their other fallen comrades.
1. Chapter 1

**Title:** Here Without You

**Rating: **T

**Description: **Through out the show of NCIS there have been several character deaths, the most memorable being Kate's. In the following two episodes we see the other agents' thoughts at her murder and her absence. But what about the others? This is the characters thoughts about their other fallen comrades.

**Author's Note: **My first NCIS fic. I intend to do the rest of the characters (Tony, McGee, Ducky, Abby and later Ziva) but I want to know if this is a good idea first. As for the chapter titles, it goes _Character Being Thought About – Character Doing the Thinking_ lol. Kiddy talk but the best way to describe it.

_Chapter One: Pacci -- Kate_

When I was an agent of the Secret Service I was always on edge. I was part of the president's security detail. We had our fair share of problems, though that was to be expected. We always managed to work it out together, my fellow agents and I. I can still hear my former boss saying to me _"Expect problems Agent Todd, and with any luck, you'll never lose a president."_ He never did mention anything about losing each other.

That was all my fellow agents and I were really worried about though; the president. Sure, we were close friends outside of work but on the job we knew that one day we would have to lay down our lives to protect the president. It was a fact we had all grown use to.

I though that had changed when I joined NCIS, but I should have known better. We're a closer knit group that the Secret Service, probably due to the lack of constant stress. The atmosphere was different too as were the types of jobs we took on. I knew this job could and would be more dangerous than my previous one, but I began to relax. I knew that someday we would probably lose someone, but I never thought it would be like this.

If I close my eyes I can still see Pacci's still, blood covered body lying disemboweled in the elevator. I had been with NCIS for less than a year and I had already seen some pretty disturbing sights, but this one definitely took the cake. It was made all the worse by the fact that the man lying dead on the elevator floor was a friend.

We had solved the case, caught Pacci's murderer (a pre-op transsexual that Tony tongued. I'll never let him live that one down.), and brought justice to Pacci's family. It wouldn't bring him back from the dead though. As I sat at my kitchen table, staring at my untouched plate, I couldn't help but wonder what else I could have done. Surely I could have made a difference if I had acted sooner. A day or two before that gruesome incident he had asked for our help on something, a cold case I believe he had said. There was no doubt in my mind that the case he was working then was the same one that had led to his death. Would I have been able to change anything if I had taken the time to help him on the case?

I stood, picked up my plate, brought it to the counter where I wrapped it in plastic wrap and placed it in the fridge. Reminiscing about Pacci had robbed me of my appetite. I walked over to the window and stared out into the gloomy dusk. I had gone with Pacci for drinks on an evening quite like this once. We had gone as friends, nothing more, but it had been enough to seal our friendship. It never had a hope of becoming anything more. I had learned my lesson in the Secret Service and I didn't intend to repeat that mistake.

Still, I didn't think losing him would hurt this much. Perhaps it was the different working environment of NCIS or something else entirely, but even now, days later, the pain of loosing a friend was still fresh in my mind.

And this wouldn't be the last time. More people I knew would die in the line of duty and leave me here to mourn their absence. Surely God would welcome them all with open arms and a warm, loving smile. Even now, Pacci was sage in His embrace. Knowing this gave me some small measure of comfort, but his absence still weighed heavy on my heart.

I turned away from the window to the fire place. A wooden crucifix rested on the mantle, looking out over my small living room. I touched my fingers to my silver crucifix necklace at my throat and could see Pacci smiling down at us from above. I knelt down slowly in front of the fire place and the crucifix. I clasped my hands before me, closed my eyes and lowered my head and began to pray for my friend's soul.


	2. Chapter 2

**A/N: **Presenting, Chapter Two. Sorry it took me so long to update. End of the year can be really hectic, especially in grade 12 (I'M FREAKIN' DONE BABY!!) Hopefully updates will come a bit quicker now. Well, enjoy chapter two.

_Chapter Two: Pacci -- Tony_

I've been an agent in NCIS for a little over two years now and before that I was in Baltimore PD. Through these two jobs I've seen my fair share of deaths. In this field of wok, you'll see the deaths of people you don't know, as well as one you do. I can say with complete certainty that it's the deaths of the ones you know that stay with you the longest.

It's not like this is the first time I'd seen a friend die but each time it's something different; a different friend, a different death, a different dirt bag. It isn't something you can become immune to. It's just something you can learn to deal with. It's like all those old war movies – lots of them – but I won't cite specifics.

Right now I was sitting in a bar, alone – I know, it's weird – with a half full glass in my hand. I stared absently at the soothing drink, thinking of my late friend Chris Pacci. He had been a great guy. We had gone out for drinks several times, played a couple of rounds of poker. I almost laughed aloud when I thought of our poker night. Chris was so anal about where the cards and the chips were placed, as he was with everything. The other guys that were there and I had had fun teasing him about that. I swear he was OCD. Speaking of OCD, I really like that one move… no, I'll stop myself there.

"Your wings, sir." I looked up to see a waitress setting a plate of screamin' hot wings on the table in front of me. Under normal circumstances, I would have started hitting on her in a heartbeat. She was absolutely gorgeous, with long chestnut brown hair, bit brown eyes, full lips, great legs and a perfect figure. But today I just wasn't feeling in the mood. I'd have to come back here later though.

"Thanks," I replied. She flashed me a gorgeous smile and walked away. I looked down at the wings my mind wandered back to the evening when we caught Pacci's murderer. I had distracted them, taken a hit for the team. I had been at a table quite like this one with a ……man, I can't even think it! Kate will never let me live this down. Well, the important thing was that the bitch… bastard… the _dirt bag_ – there we go – was dead.

I reached for my glass and realized that the waitress had refilled it while I had been distracted. I lifted my glass in a silent toast to Pacci and drank to his memory. It was better than moping about like a little lost puppy. Instead I would drown my sorrows in surf and turf. Ninety five percent of the time, that was the better plan.

Instead of thinking about his death, I thought of his life. He always liked to joke around and have fun, but he took his job seriously. He was one hell of an agent. He had been working with a probie for a while – Agent Cassey – but she was off on her own. She had been transferred from Norfolk so she could work with a more senior agent. Apparently Pacci had been a great teacher, and Cassey had turned out all right so I guess it must have been true.

The only thing that really bugged me right now though, was that I felt somewhat responsible for his death. I remember just before he died he had asked for help on a cold-case – the same one that got him killed – but we had been too busy to help. I know it's stupid to dwell on thoughts like this but I couldn't stop myself. A little voice nagging me in the back of my mind kept saying that if I had taken just a moment out of my day to help him maybe things would have turned out differently.

I shook my head and turned my attention back to my chicken wings. Suddenly I felt a hand on my shoulder and I looked up to see Ducky, Abby and Kate. Ducky smiled at me sadly and I smiled back. Abby, completely decked out in chains and black- she even had Burt, her farting hippo – sat down across from me and snatched up one of the wings.

"Help yourself," I said, though my remark came too late. The other two sat down as well and we ordered a round of drinks from waitress – yes, I was definitely going to come back here – and we all started having a good time. Once again we toasted Pacci and began to talk about old times.

Hey, that reminds me of a movie.


	3. Chapter 3

A/N: So I finally finished it, but it didn't quite turn out how I thought it would. It ended up being more about McGee's inner turmoil about the job rather then Pacci, but oh well. That's just how his mind works lol. R&R

_Chapter Three: Pacci – McGee_

In the quiet of my apartment I slowly worked on dismantling an old computer before putting it back together again. It was a hobby of mine; the older ones were harder to put back together again, but it was more fun that way. It helped me concentrate and focus. It also kept me from thinking about other things.

Now that my mind had returned to that subject, I couldn't think if anything else. Putting the computer away I sat down at the desk where I kept my typewriter and stared at the blank page. By this time I haven't been in NCIS for very long. I'm not even a full field agent yet, though I have helped Gibbs and his team on several occasions. And of course Abbey. I've worked with them on a few cases, assisting where I can, and I've seen some pretty bad things.

But this was my first dead comrade. Sure, I didn't know Pacci all that well, not like some of the other agents, but I had been helping him with the same case that caused his death. I knew that none of this was my fault, all I had been doing was getting him some files, but I couldn't help but feel that I should have done something more. Seeing someone who could have been a friend, dead in a pool of his own blood, had really jarred me. It wasn't something you got over quickly, if at all.

I tapped away a little on my typewriter, doing something I like to call 'free writing.' Just typing and letting whatever was in my head onto the page. My room was silent except for the soft tapping sound made by my typewriter as my fingers flew across the keys. When I finally looked back down at the page the details of Pacci's death were looking back at me.

Tearing the page out of the machine I quickly stuffed it in the shredder before placing my elbows on the desk and putting my head in my hands. After a moment I couldn't even do that; whenever I closed my eyes I saw Pacci.

Don't get me wrong, I'm not an coward or anything, but there are some things that no one should ever have to see. This was definitely one of them. But the others, the agents I sometimes work with, none of this seemed to get to them. That was probably what unnerved me the most. They didn't seemed phased or bothered by this in the slightest. They all took it in stride.

Sighing, I stood and went over to look at my record collection. Selecting a jazz ensemble, I placed it on the record player and turned it on. The soft music flowed through the room, slowly calming my mind. It worked for a moment, until I looked into the kitchen and saw my badge sitting on the counter. Now not even the jazz music could calm me down.

I turned the record player off, seeing as how it was just useless background noise, went into my bedroom and flopped down on my bed. As I stared at the roof, I thought about my future with NCIS. I wanted to be a field agent. I _desperately_ wanted to be a field agent. But was I cut out for it? I didn't know anymore. I obviously couldn't handle things like the others, but did that really mean anything?

Slowly I rolled onto my side and once again thought about Pacci. It was no use debating whether or not I was up to being a field agent yet or not. For now, I would still do whatever it took, to keep things like this from happening to any more of my comrades.


End file.
